


Singin' the Duane Reade Blues

by kashinoha



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cisco is a bad influence, Humor, about as pre-slashy as you get, coldflash - Freeform, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashinoha/pseuds/kashinoha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry catches cold, in a sense. He just never thought it would be this amusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singin' the Duane Reade Blues

**Singin' the Duane Reade Blues  
**

All characters © DC Comics

 

 

Hundreds of genetically altered humans and super-villains out there, and yet people forgot that the worst of them all sat in their bathrooms.

You underestimated its power. The silent hero, always there when you needed it. It gained your trust, made you dependent on it. Then it was gone, and you were left powerless, desperate, cursing yourself for turning such an admirable and useful ally into a worthy foe.

Well, that was toilet paper for you.

Factor in the worst blizzard Central City had seen in five years, a comically lost game of Rock Paper Scissors, and guess who in the West household got stuck with the pharmacy run? Well to be fair, it wasn’t just the toilet paper. Joe needed antacids (he claimed they helped with his job nowadays) and Iris needed sanitary products. She’d pulled the whole “you’re not the only one who bleeds in this house” card, which was both adorable and slightly terrifying when you thought about it.

Despite everything, Barry was in a fairly good mood by the time he reached the pharmacy. The temperature didn’t slow him down as much as it used to, and amidst all the snow falling his lightning made the air glow and crackle a rather spectacular crimson. Measly street lamps, in your faces.

Barry swiftly scanned the aisles. He was still caught up on possibly naming his lightning residue (“blood fireflies” was the only option that didn’t completely suck at the moment), and in all honesty was not paying attention. Sure, pharmacies were the second most-likely places to get robbed next to banks and museums, but today even the most pernicious of evildoers had decided that a blizzard wasn’t worth it. The drugstore was mostly empty, save for a few brave individuals wrapped up in the warmest down they could find, shuffling through the aisles trying to take in as much indoor heating as possible before venturing outside again.

Barry grabbed a six-pack of Charmin and made his way towards the women’s aisle, forgoing discretion just this once. It was hardly his first tampon run for Iris, but even so he found himself baffled by the sheer amount of variation there was. Which one was he supposed to get? What the hell did “gentle glide” even mean, and did he really want to know?

From the next aisle over Barry heard an explosive sneeze, followed by a low nasal expletive that sounded vaguely familiar. He winced. Whoever the sneezer was, he was not a happy camper.

Now Barry was not exactly embarrassed, but it was bound to be a little awkward running into anybody he knew with his arms full of toilet paper and tampons. He quickly grabbed the nearest box (Tampax, seemed harmless enough) and made a beeline for the register.

Before forgetting that he needed Joe’s antacids. Darn it. He doubled back, the drug aisle in sight, and almost walked straight into the last person he expected to see in a random pharmacy during a snowstorm.

“Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me,” Barry groaned. He should have recognized the parka. Yeah, everyone was wearing parkas, but Leonard Snart’s had a particular “touch me and die” look to it. Maybe it was the way the faux fur stood up in spikes. Snart had his hood up, which was odd considering they were both indoors, but Barry was more concerned with possible casualties than with Snart’s fashion choices.

Snart probably saw something of this in his expression and gave a smirk. “Why hello, Barry.”

“Aren’t drug stores a little below your usual standards?” Barry asked. He blew out his breath in a sigh. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, Snart.”

Snart rolled his eyes. “Relax. Central City is safe from my treacherous villainy today,” he replied in that slow, deliberate drawl of his. “Hardly the weather for it.” Barry felt the sudden urge to make a _Frozen_ reference, but resisted. With effort.

“Well that’s, uh, good,” he said. His gaze lingered on Snart for a moment longer. He could not place it, but something felt off with the guy. Barry didn’t know if it was his posture or his voice, but whatever it was it was probably best to leave it. Poking into Leonard Snart’s business, even with a tiny stick, always got him into trouble. Or a patch of ice.

“Something you want to share, Barry?” asked Snart, his head tilted to the side, smirk widening.

Barry blinked. “I…what?”

Snart was staring at the tampons Barry was holding with a raised eyebrow. Great. Barry made a pitiful effort to tuck the Tampax deeper into the crook of his elbow.

“Funny,” he said, trying to regain some of his dignity, “they’re not for me.” Now Snart was looking at him like he was an idiot. Barry could almost hear the drowning burble of his good mood as it slipped down the drain. He jabbed his thumb behind him and cleared his throat. “Right. Then I’ll just be, uh…” He turned to leave, eager to put some distance between himself and Snart, and suddenly froze in place. Metaphorically, of course.

He’d been right; drug stores were not exactly batting high when it came to Snart.

Barry could not help himself. He had to know. “If you’re not here to rob the place, why are you here, Snart?” he asked.

“You’re not very observant, are you?” replied Snart, his nose wrinkling. “For someone so speedy you’re surprisingly slow on the uptake, _Flash._ What does it look like?”

That stung, probably because Snart had a point. Barry had been so concerned with whether or not he’d have to take Snart down that he had not really bothered to _look_ at Snart. Now that he did, he saw a shopping basket packed with a variety of generic cold meds from Tylenol to Robitussin. Barry’s eyes widened. The hood and slumped posture. The sneezer from aisle twelve. It all added up.

“Are you,” he said, cupping his hands over his mouth to hide a rapidly burgeoning grin, “are you telling me that Captain Cold has a _cold?”_ A huff of laughter escaped him. He wished Cisco were here to see this.

Snart narrowed his eyes.

“Seriously? Wait no, this is too good,” Barry exclaimed, shaking his head. Generally, enemy-antagonizing was a Very Bad Thing that should never be done, but when the puns were this amazing Barry was even worse than Cisco. “Guess this weather is a _li—ttle_ chilly even for you, ‘cause I’m not the only one who caught cold today. Get it?”

“Yes it’s very amusing, clearly,” said Snart, irritated. He pushed back the hood of his parka, finally gracing Barry with a view of tired eyes and a sore-looking nose.

“Wow,” observed Barry, “I can see why you needed the hood. You look awful.” Which, actually, was only half-true. With the least attractive surname on the planet one would expect the Snarts to be equally unattractive people. You’d picture fat, with thick glasses or pocket protectors and possibly oozing acne. But on the contrary, looking “awful” for either Snart sibling was fairly difficult. Caitlin would call them _specimens._ Sometimes, quite literally, irony was a beautiful thing.

Even more ironic was Captain Cold nicking cold medicine at the pharmacy. Barry started chuckling again at the thought, his good mood restored to full heights.

Snart gave him a look and sniffed. “Your concern is touching,” he said flatly. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to go home where I can Robo-trip in peace and everyone _leaves me alone.”_

“Well somebody’s a cranky super-villain today,” Barry mused, the smile not quite gone from his face. The fact that Snart looked like he might sneeze was also pretty entertaining, but what finally wiped the last of Barry’s grin away was Snart pulling out a leather wallet from his pocket. It took Barry a full minute to process what he was seeing.

“What are you—are you _buying_ this stuff?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Don’t look so astonished,” said Snart, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I buy ordinary things, just like everybody else. As for the other things, well.” He pulled his hood up again. “You know the rest.”

“You’re actually paying for something instead of stealing it,” said Barry, slowly. “Okay, you really must be sick.”

Snart’s smile showed a bit of teeth. “Enjoy your tampons, Flash.”

Barry shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…feel better,” he told Snart. Because Snart really did look exhausted, and Barry liked to think of himself as a fairly decent person. He swiped Joe’s antacids off the shelf almost as an afterthought, mainly to distract himself from how wrong saying that felt in his mouth. Like that week-old chow mein he’d found on Cisco’s desk last month.

“Catch you later,” was all Snart said. He was already walking away, but Barry could hear the smile in his voice. Barry honestly hadn’t expected a thank you (because _that_ would have creeped him out to the max), but he gave a snort, faintly pleased with himself.

“Yeah, not likely,” he muttered, just loud enough for Snart to hear.

 

_End._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get over my massive writer's block. I never thought I'd come to like Captain Cold, but he's growing on me. I'm thanking him (and Barry) for these unexpected feels, since it's got me writing again. Feedback is always appreciated!


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